


The Races

by Fishcantwrite



Category: No fandom whoops
Genre: Depression, Dissociation, Domestic Fluff, F/F, F/M, Horses, It's in first person im so sorry I legit cant write anything else, LATER, Nadia is... nadia she gets her own warning, Strangers to Lovers, Survival partners to lovers?, also uh, and impulsiveness, at some point, dont worry i like fluff aswell, it's amazing how many horses are in this book, so many horses, that sweet sweet self doubt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 19:51:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19979578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fishcantwrite/pseuds/Fishcantwrite
Summary: This chalkboard rules us all.Everyone is looking for a space on one. A line of space can mean your family lives on, it can mean wealth, it can mean being able to afford to live. It can mean nothing.To me, a space on this damned chalkboard means everything.





	The Races

**Author's Note:**

> This.. isn't going to be good. I'm not a writer, not a real one and everything about this is just trial and error but here's the rundown. It's an original story with inspiration from many, many, many YA novels, so it's probably not the most original thing you've seen but we out here tryin lol

The market is crowded, and I pity any person who decided to bring anything but a mundane with them. 

The canyon is damp, crowded, and so so alive with the sound of people. I hate it. I long for the blue of the sky and the touch of a feathery mane under my fingers. Everything this marketplace was lacking, I missed. 

That was fine though, it would just have to be that way. I would have to bear anything that was thrown at me for now. The races would strip any security I had left away anyways.

I'm knocked out of my head as Anston throws his head up and skitters sideways,nearly into a woman and three other horses, as he stares down an oh so scary fish cart. I curse at the pain, gather myself, my cheeks heat up slightly as a few people from the crowd stopped and stare, I try to get a good grip back on his lead and guide him through the crowded streets. 

He was admittedly a fine gelding, legs straight and shoulder well built, not to mention an admirable colour, but sometimes I found myself despising his cautiousness. We step up into a crowded and filthy stable at the end of the street. This is where he'd hopefully be staying for awhile, if there was space. For now, I lead him into a dark stall, and braid a quick charm into his forelock and whisper a promise to return. 

The bar is loud and stinks of sweat and anger. Moving bodies are packed in every corner, drunk and looking for a release from life . However, I need to get a place in this race, so I roll back my shoulders and try to quell my fear. Striding up to the chalkboard, I scan for a spot 

and hope for a spot, 

any open space, 

a space that would determine the rest of my life up from now. 

My eyes scan and scan, trying to filter through the cramped and unorganized names. 

Then, they find one. 

I grip a piece of chalk a sweaty hand had handed me as soon as I stepped into this bar. It nearly slips from my hand, so slick with sweat, and so I quickly scrawl my name on the cursed board in fear that if I didn’t do this quickly, I would lose the nerve. Large and bold. 

Nadia Haynes and Anston, signing over their life. 

A few bar-goers whistle and clap, a handful of others bore holes into me with their eyes. They wish I could just wipe it away, pack up and go home, but this signature was sealed in blood. Nobody dared to erase it. Not that they could.

Instead of dwelling on bitterness, I head back to the stable. 

Being officially registered has taken a huge weight off my shoulders, but it also adds so much more. Four weeks of preparation, of which I'm planning to spend training and traveling. 

Then three weeks of being in Nottinsun. 

Then the races. 

I dread it. So instead of dealing with that dread, I ignore it and resolve to grabbing my belongings. Looks like I'm going into the city. 

I halter Anston,he noses me, and I let myself relax for a moment. Run my hands down his face. 

His hair under my hands is warm, and it helps settle the thrum of homesickness in my heart. 

I breathe in, breathe out and grab his lead firmly,hands strong and not shaking I lead him out and away from the market, we follow the sloped paths up and up and up until we are surrounded by fields ,and cradled by mountains.

Chapter 1; Part 2

“Lills, lilli, anna, Lilliannnn, LILLIANA.”

Ah, good old Avian. Never able to keep his mouth shut for longer than 30 seconds.

“What could you possibly want Avian.”  


More annoyed than I meant to sound.I hear him pause , as if he was second guessing his words, no doubt hurt by my response. Guilt bleeds into my veins. There was a time where he wouldn’t speak at all. Where it seemed like the seawater had crept into his throat and claimed it like it had his parents lives.  
"Look down."  


And as always, I followed his word. 

Here we are, the marketplace. A giant trading center settled right into a canyon. Everybody looked like colorful dots from the edge of here. 

Sorta weird. How civilization just puts itself where it wants to be.  


“Liliana! Let’s go! I want to buy some of those Esthelian apples”  


Right, not just here for selling honey.  


“I’m coming! Give me a second”

“You always need a second! Hurry the hell up!” 

“Okay! Damn. No need to snap at me” 

I urge Cleric onward, following behind the cart until we get a point where I have to fling myself out of the saddle and walk. 

Being in the middle of a crowd felt weird; home was never this crowded, but it was a good change. 

Following slowly behind Marty, I stare, bright eyed at the chaos. 

Nothing I knew was as lively as this and I reveled in it. 

Up standing at that ledge, it seemed like a few hundred people, now it seemed like thousands. I shove this out of my head,it wouldn’t due to become too excited too quickly, and make my way to the brightest part of the market, my father following behind, and Marty leading the way. 

Months ago, we were offered a spot in this market, and so we took it. 

Started packing up and moving West. 

My gaze is caught by my mother unharnessing the cart horses, and I offer my help. I can tell they’re weary, dirty as well. They then decide to go brush their noses against my cheek. I scrunch up my nose at the feeling.  


“Couldn't have you two waited until you were clean?!”

“You know they couldn’t, they’re heathens the lot of them, now go take them to the stable, and here, the tags for them. It wouldn’t help us any if they were taken by thieves.”  


I try to gesture at the fact that I was currently leading another horse around, but she shoves the tags into one hand, and two leads in another. I huff slightly but quickly find myself back on the street, all three horses in tow. 

Along the street, I'm nearly knocked sideways by an impressive grey dapple staring down a cart. Despite the distraction, I find the stables well enough and trade in two tags for a stall, and scrounge up what pocket money I have to pay for another. 

Task finished, I attempted to see over the crowd. Trying to spot two heads of nearly identical brown hair was pretty hard it seemed. 

Finally, I spot the two, giggling among themselves as they seem to sneak their way into a bar. 

A bar..where racegoers sign up. 

That couldn’t be right. 

I shoot forward, and yelp slightly as my shoulder immediately hits the side of a fruit stand. 

Rubbing the forming bruise, I grumble and this time, slower of course, make my way over to where the two disappeared .  


Ducking under an overhang, I enter the bar. Loud and crowded, just like the streets. 

Eyes flitting over people I zero in on the two. Sitting in the corner, both pairs of eyes glued to the chalkboard.  


Making my way over to them, sparks of anger ignite in my chest, hot and weighted. 

How could they stand to sit here, with that cursed chalkboard sitting just over there. Millions of people try and fail to live through the races, and they’re here- are they? 

Are they joking about signing up?  


“Avian Price and Marty Rivera, I hope to god that you have no intention of putting either your names on that chalkboard.”  


“No we weren't we were jus-” Marty elbows him, hissing quietly to shut up under his breath and I look over at the chalkboard. Right there, in small and slanted writing, was the name Avian Price.  


My eyes snap coldly to his. Before I can stop myself, think even, I yank the piece of chalk from his hands and stalk up to the board.  
“Well, guess I did as well” 

Liliana Rivera, sealed in blood.

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhh if you finished this thanks! Feel free to scream into the comments about how much it sucks, or if you liked it or something along those lines or kudos if that fits you better.  
> ANYWAYS uh yeah have a nice day/night/evening/year


End file.
